Dear Maa

The visuals are stunning and the feel very cinematic This film quietly holds you in its emotional gravity, Jaya Ahsan delivers a restrained performance throughout, her grief restrained yet palpable whenever she searches police stations or questions passersby, themes of trust and custody weave through the narrative, exploring whether true parental bonds are chosen or enforced, Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury channels warmth and sadness through scenes where Brinda must confront her daughter's wish to leave, cinematographer Avik Mukhopadhyay frames monsoon-lit roads and interior silences with equal care, supporting actors such as Anubha Fatehpuria and Dhritiman Chatterjee add human texture without glamor, the film's length gives it room to breathe and build emotional stakes rather than lean on shock.

A sincere attempt at good storytelling At nearly 2 hours 24 minutes, Dear Maa may seem long, but it earns every minute through emotional sincerity. Jaya Ahsan's commanding presence grounds the story of a mother whose daughter rejects her love. The disappearance triggers not only a citywide police search (where Saswata Chatterjee and Anubha Fatehpuria appear in key roles) but also an emotional unraveling of societal biases and personal chaos. The narrative, while not twist-heavy, is driven by internal stakes: shame, guilt, maternal grief, and redemption. I was moved by how the film unpacks adoption, showing it as both care and conflict, creating a universal pathos that's deeply human.

Dear Maa tells the story of Brinda Mitra, portrayed by Jaya Ahsan, whose world is shattered when her adopted daughter Sohini goes missing, her search unfolding both like a procedural and a mother's desperate plea. The film delicately explores motherhood, adoption and self-sacrifice, showing how love can be more powerful than biology, the screenplay based on collaboration between Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury and Sakyajit Bhattacharya feels organic, the pacing steady not rushed, Monsoon Kolkata visuals paired with introspective performances from ensemble cast members like Saswata Chatterjee and Chandan Roy Sanyal reinforce the emotional weight, the slow revelations about identity and belonging make this drama quietly affecting and distinct in Bengali cinema.

The most gripping aspect of Dear Maa is its refusal to glamorize or simplify mother-daughter relationships. Brinda and Sohini's bond fractures under emotional strain, and yet the film never loses sight of love as the throughline. Jaya Ahsan portrays this tension with nuance, her grief and determination invested, never performative. The supporting ensemble, including Chandan Roy Sanyal as a key figure in the search, brings understated solidity. Visually, the film captures monsoon-streaked Kolkata and its subdued aesthetic to mirror internal mood. In the end, the tragedy and hope interweave subtly, not through melodrama, but through quiet resilience.

Poignant. Heartfelt. A good watch Dear Maa doesn't shy away from messy emotions. As Sohini's absence stretches into unknown territory, the adoptive mother navigates bureaucracy, blame, and emotional collapse. Jaya Ahsan anchors the film-her portrayal never sanctifies Brinda, it honors her humanity. The screenplay feels rooted in depth, showing adoption from multiple angles-between mothers, institutions, and personal trauma-rather than a single narrative track . The cast beyond Jaya-Saswata, Dhritiman Chatterjee, Shayan Munshi-fills the canvas with realism. Overall, the film shows that love doesn't guarantee belonging, but it does demand courage-and that tension makes Dear Maa memorable.